


Don't You Let Me Go Tonight

by edgeofthegalaxy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Fever, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I will fight anyone who says otherwise, IronDad and SpiderSon, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Seizures, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony is also kinda a mess lets be real, Tony takes care of a sick peter, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 22:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgeofthegalaxy/pseuds/edgeofthegalaxy
Summary: In which Tony finds himself taking care of a very sick Peter Parker and things are quickly going downhill.





	Don't You Let Me Go Tonight

Tony had figured out a long time ago that he and sleep just didn’t go together. From the age of nine when nightmares would repeatedly startle him awake, to college when homework kept him up until morning. They just weren’t meant to be, and it seemed impossible for the universe to allow him to get more than five hours of sleep at a time. Eventually, he had given up, and traded in his restless nights for productive time spent in his lab. Every now and then, he would make another attempt, but it rarely proved successful.

So when his cell phone’s ringtone blared through the room only about two hours after he passed out, he wasn’t surprised. He ignores it at first, throwing a pillow over the annoying device to smother the sound until it stopped. There is a short second of blessed silence before the tone starts up again. He groans.

“Fri?”

“It’s May Parker calling, sir. I suggest you answer.”

That got his attention. He furrows his eyebrows, hand snaking under the pillow to grab his phone. His brain ran through all the reason May might be calling him, none of them good. He knew very well that he was not May’s favorite person, and only reason she would pick up the phone and dial him had to do with the hyper-active spider child she had found in her care.

“Tony! Nice of you to answer.” Came May’s voice.

“What’s going on, May?”

“I think Peter’s sick.”

“He’s… sick? How is he sick?”

“I don’t know, Tony. I didn’t even know he was capable of getting sick, but here he is, complaining his stomach hurts and his forehead is burning up.”

“Okay, okay I’ll- I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He covers the phone with his hand. “Fri, tell Happy to bring the car and meet me at the Parker’s apartment.”

He signs off the phone with May, pieces of his suit already clinging to his arms and legs as he walks towards the lab. He summons Mark XL, letting the familiar metal in case him, the GPS already set to Peter’s place, courtesy of Friday.

May was waiting for him outside the door, a frown etched onto her usually joyful face. She nodded her greeting to him and opens the door to allow him through. He smiles back, stepping out of the suit and following her down the hall to Peter’s bedroom.

And Peter.

Wow. Okay.

Peter did not look good.

He was sprawled out on his bed, a leg and arm thrown off the side and sticking out from under his duvet. His face was scrunched up in pain, sweat soaking his chocolate curls and sticking to his forehead, even though his shivers were visible from across the room.

“Pete?” Tony called, moving closer to the mass on the bed and kneeling down next to his face. “Hey, kid.”

Peter groans in annoyance, but squints open his eyes nonetheless. He wrinkles his nose at the bright lights in the room, and May switches them off. Peter glances up at Tony for a second and offers him a small smile before closing his eyes and turning over in his bed, pulling the duvet closer to his chin.

“He’s getting worse.” May speaks from her spot leaning against the doorway. “Last night he was just complaining of a bit of a headache and his stomach hurting a bit, but.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how he got this bad this quickly.” 

A car horn sounds outside, twice in quick succession, letting Tony know Happy had arrived. He looks to May.

“I’m going to take him to the compound. Have the doc take a look at him and we’ll fix him up.” Tony looks at the lanyard around her neck- her hospital badge. “You need to go to work.”

May crosses her arms, not taking her eyes off her nephew. “Tony…”

“May. He’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

She raises her eyes to look into his. “Take care of my kid.” He nods at her, an unspoken promise.

Tony bends down next to Peter’s bed. “Alright, Kiddo.” He peels the blankets back, ignoring the protest from Peter. “Time to go, c’mon.” He grabs Peter’s right wrist and wraps it around his shoulders, using it to tug Peter out of his bed. He stumbles over his own feet for a second, and Tony tightens his grip on him.

“’ime for school?” He mumbles out.

“No, bud. Not today.”

May huffs out a laugh and smiles as she rolls her eyes at him. As he and Tony walk by, May puts her hands on either side of Peter’s face, and lowers her head to look him in the eyes.

“You feel better, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I get off work.” She presses a kiss to his heated forehead and ruffles his hair.

It takes almost seven minutes to get down the stairs with Peter in tow, but somehow, they finally make it. Happy raises an eyebrow at the pair.

“Wow. What happened to you, kid?”

Peter shrugs. “Dunno.”

“Spider kid managed to get sick.” Tony answers for him. Happy lets out an exasperated sigh, the one reserved for Peter and his shenanigans. But he opens the back door for them anyways, and helps Tony help Peter into the backseat. Once sitting down, Peter slumps over, his head dropping against Tony’s shoulder.

“Kid?”

“Cold. You’re warm.” Was the only answer he received.

Once they get to the tower, Tony helps Peter onto his bed, being sure to keep a hand on the back of his head until he was laying against the pillows, just in case. Peter sends him a small smile for a thank you, not bothering with words and turns onto his side. He reaches a hand down and grabs onto a blanket, wrapping it tightly around himself.

Tony frowns, and debates if he should allow that or take the blanket away. Peter was sick- he was burning up with a fever and probably needed to keep his temperature down, but the way Peter had shivered against him in the car stuck in his brain.

“Friday? Can you check his temp?”

“Peter Parker’s temperature is currently at 103, indicating a moderate fever.”

“Thanks, dear.”

He thinks 103 should be worrying, if Peter was a normal teenager. But he’s not, and Tony is aware his body runs a degree or two higher than non-enhanced people. But it’s still not great, and his frown doesn’t let up as he stares at Peter, who has already managed to fall asleep again.

He slips his phone out of his pocket, and scrolls through a few contacts until he finds Helen Cho. It’d been about a year or two since they had last talked, but he knows she loves Peter and that she wouldn’t hesitate to help them.

His hopes prove unsuccessful though, as the call ends up on voicemail. He tries a second time, only to yield the same results. He sighs, sends her a few texts letting her know that something was wrong with Peter and asking her to call him back asap. He wishes Bruce were here, and that he hadn’t fucked off to who-knows-where. He knew Bruce would put up a fight if he asked him to check out the kid, giving him his normal bullshit about how he’s “not that kind of doctor, Tony” but then proceeding to figure it out, just like he always does. He knows Rhodey is at the tower this weekend, and he considers having him come look at the kid. He had the role of a medic for a while in the army, so he might have an idea on what’s going on, but at the same time, Peter being practically half spider didn’t help them much in understanding how his body worked.

When Tony glances back at the kid. His mouth is open slightly and a small trail of drool making its way towards his pillow. Tony laughs, tucks the blanket in around him, and leaves him to sleep.

“Boss, Peter Parker appears to be in distress.” Friday’s voice startles him out of his concentration, where he drops the tool he was currently using to put DumE back together. Tony frowns, shoving his chair away and quickly walking towards the elevator.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He appears to be very sick and has vomited.”

Tony lets out a curse, jamming the elevator button several times in his impatience. Finally, the elevator began moving, and Tony tapped his foot in the few seconds it took to take him the few floors up.

Shoving himself through the doors as soon as the gap was big enough, he hurries down the hall. He can faintly hear a high-pitched whining coming from Peter’s room.

“Pete?” Tony calls to let the boy know he was there as he pushes the door to his bedroom open.

Tony was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Peter was propped up against his pillows, his arms clutching tightly around his stomach as he curled up. His head was thrown back against the wall, face pale and eyes red rimmed from crying as he sucked in air quickly between his keening. Vomit ran down the front of his NASA pajama shirt, dripping from his chin and sticking to his hands.

“Oh, Kid.”

At the sound of Tony’s voice, Peter begins crying harder, dropping his head down to his chest to avoid looking at him. Tony moved slowly, coming around to the bed and sitting on the edge. He placed a hand on Peter’s knee, in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“I-I. I’m so. I’m so sorry.” Peter cries, raising his eyes to peak at his mentor. “I didn’t-didn’t mean too-o.”

Tony shushes him. “Hey, hey, Pete. It’s okay.” Tony moves his hands to brush the curls out of the kid’s eyes and away from his sweaty forehead. “No one is mad, okay?”

Peter lets a groan, and before Tony can react, the kid is vomiting again. Sick splashes down onto him and the blankets. Tony holds his breath, tries not to get sick himself. Nevertheless, he doesn’t move away, instead rubbing soothing circles on Peter’s back as he waits for him to get it all out.

“So_ gross_.” Peter whimpers out pathetically.

“Nope. No, not gross.” Tony stands up, walking in the kid’s connected bathroom. He grabs a washcloth, and fills up a cup with warm water. Peter isn’t in any condition to stand up and take a shower. In fact, Tony isn’t even sure if the boy could make it to the bathroom.

He sits back down besides Peter, placing the cup onto the small nightstand next to the bed. He ducks his head down to meet Peter’s eyes. “I’m gunna take your shirt off, okay? So we can get you cleaned up.” Peter gives a weak nod, just barely noticeable, so Tony finds the hem of the old T-shirt and bunches it up. Peter makes no move to help him, so Tony carefully guides it over his head, making sure that none of the sick touched his face, and maneuvers it down his arms for him. Once it’s off, Tony tosses it towards the bathroom onto the floor.

He could deal with that later.

He dips the washcloth into the water, and grabs one of Peter’s wrists, tugging it away from his torso. He cleans his palm, back of his hand and his fingers, repeating the process with his other hand. Once his hands are done, he starts wiping away the vomit from Peter’s chest where it soaked through his shirt. Peter doesn’t say anything, only keeps his eyes fixed on his mentor’s face. His breathing is still to fast for Tony’s liking. 

“Ya know,” He starts, hoping to distract Peter from the pain he’s in. “It really is fine. Rhodey had to do this for me a couple times back in my MIT days. There was this one night where some frat moron challenged me to a drinking contest, and of course I couldn’t say no, so I accepted but half way through I found out his friends had been adding extra to mi-“

He’s cut off by a violent shiver from Peter, and he turns his attention back to towards him. His breathing hasn’t calmed down yet, despite Peter himself looking calmer.

“Kid, you need to breathe.”

Tony swipes the clothes over Peter’s chin before dropping it onto the table and taking Peter’s face into his hands, angling the kid’s head up so he was forced to watch him.

“Hey, It’s fine. Just slow down. In…. and out.” Peter struggles, but eventually he manages to slow down his breathing a bit, enough to where Tony no longer feels he might hyperventilate.

“Mr. Stark. I feel really, really bad.” Peter whimpers out.

“Yeah, I bet, kiddo. I’ll try to call Cho again in the morning and see if she can come down to take a look at ya.”

Peter nods miserably, leaning into Tony’s hands as his eyes closed again.

“Hey, whoa, stay away for another minute so we can move you somewhere clean to sleep.” Tony stands, gesturing for Peter to follow him. Peter kicks off the sheets his legs were tangled in, swings them off the bed. Before Tony can even get a hold on him, Peter tries to stand up.

Tony thrusts his arms out, but he’s too late and Peter crashes roughly to the ground as he knees buckle and give out. Peter lets out a yelp as he hits the floor, Tony just barely managing to grab onto him before his head could smash onto the floor also.

“Okay, okay, that’s fine. C’mere.” Tony loops an arm behind Peter’s back, his other arm sneaking under his knees. He takes a deep breath and lifts Peter into the air, holding him close to his chest.

Peter squirms against him. “No, no I can walk, I prom-“

“Nope. We’re not taking another chance. The last thing you need is a concussion.” Tony shifts the boy in his arms higher to get a better grip on him. He carries him down the hall, pausing outside the guest room door. Peter tries, and fails, to hide a cough.

Tony keeps walking. There was no way he was leaving the kid alone again.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter questions weakly as he pushes through the door to his own master bedroom.

“We,” He carefully lowers Peter down onto his bed. “Are having a sleepover.”

Peter looks like he wants to protest, but instead he just flops back onto a pillow and stares.

That’s how Tony knows just how bad Peter was really feeling. Peter is known for protesting any kind of special treatment. Tony remembers once, about three months ago, when Peter had managed to snap his ankle after a particularly bad fall while patrolling. The damn kid flat out refused any help, not even accepting crutches. Instead, he chose to limp around for two weeks pretending nothing at all had happened. So, for Peter to be so accepting of help is a goddamn miracle.

“Here, you can put this on.” Tony throws an old MIT sweater of his onto the bed to Peter. It takes Peter a second, his movements slow and uncoordinated, but he gets the hoodie over his head and his arms through the sleeves.

“Alright, Underoos. You can go back to sleep now.” Tony says as he slips onto the bed next to the kid. It didn’t need to be said though, as Peter was already quickly falling asleep again. Tony can’t help but be worried by this. He had never seen this kid sleep as much as he had in the last few hours. Normally, it was a problem trying to get Peter to stop bouncing off the walls or rambling about whatever new internet meme or a new science theory he had found.

Tony tries not to think on it too much. Instead, he busies himself by scrolling through his phone, ignoring all the unread texts about missed meetings in favor of looking through old pictures of him and Pepper.

A cry wakes up Tony.

He startles awake, attention immediately on Peter. Peter is clutching his head, hands at his temples as he arches in pain.

“Peter!” He only cries out again at the loud sound, flinches away from him and squeezes his eyes shut.

Peter goes limp.

Tony panics. He doesn’t know what to do, how to take care of sick people and he is way too out of his league. He needs help.

“Rhodey!” He shouts. “Friday, Get Rhodes down here! Now!”

Tony reaches over, turns Peter over onto his back so he can see the kids face again. His eyes are open, blank and unseeing. His lips smack together as spit pools between them.

“Tony?! What’s going on?” Rhodey comes crashes through the door, out of breath and eyes wide.

“I. I don’t know. He was crying and holding his head but now he’s just not moving and he’s doing with thing with his mouth and I don’t know what’s happening or what to do and holy fu-“

“Get him on the floor.”

“What?”

“He’s gunna have a seizure. You need to get on the floor. Now, Tony.”

The man hooks his arms under Peter’s armpits and lowers him to the ground, moving him away from the bed and towards the center of the room, where he was no longer in reach of anything he could possibly hit.

Rhodey kneels down next to the pair. “Turn him onto his side.”

“Why?”

“So that he can’t choke on his spit or vomit.”

Tony turns him. He runs a hand through Peter’s hair, gently places his head in his lap as he keeps his hair from falling into his face. By now, Peter is trembling, face screwed up in pain.

“Tones, He’s gunna-“

The full body convulsions start before Rhodey can even warn him. Peter thrashes like a fish out of water. Trembling, back arching up as he tenses, arms and legs flailing uncontrollably. A high pitched squeal escapes from Peter’s throat.

Tony closes his eyes. He can’t bear to see Peter like this.

To see _his kid_ like this.

“C’mon, kiddo.” He whispers to him. “It’ll be okay.” He doesn’t know if Peter can hear him or not, or if he can hear him, if he even understands. But he continues to murmur soft words of reassurance, resisting the urge to reach out and hold him. Using the pad of his thumb, he wipes away some of tears that are leaking out the sides of Peter’s eyes.

It doesn’t last long. The trembling slows, as does the crying. Peter shifts his eyes, searching for something he can’t find.

“Hey, Pete. You back with us?” Rhodey asks softly.

Peter’s eyes land on Tony. His brows furrow. He tries to say something, but it just comes out as a gargled mess. He frowns and tries again. It’s quiet and strained and slurred.

“Ben?”

Tony’s heart drops. Bile rises in his throat.

“No, baby. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s eyes well up with tears for a second time, and he calls out for Ben again. Louder this time, more frantic. He’s getting upset, trying to get out from under the two man’s hands. Rhodey rests a hand over Peter’s forehead.

“Shit, Tony, he’s way too hot. Go run the bath- cold water.”

Tony races to his bathroom, throws the faucet handle as far right as it can go, plugs the drain, and sprints back into the bedroom, nodding to Rhodey. He picks up Peter and they carry him to the bathroom. Tony pulls his sweatshirt off him. 

Peter mumbles something incoherently, and tries to squirm away from them, but Rhodey holds him steady. Tony continues, making his way down to hurriedly tug off the thick pajama pants. With Rhodey’s help, they lift him and set him into the cold water.

Peter yelps. He kicks out and tries to twist away. They both have to strain to try and keep him in the water. Water splashes out of the tub, onto the floor. Rhodey narrowly avoids being hit. 

“It’s too cold!” He cries out.

“Pete! Peter, stop! Calm down.” Tony tries. He doesn’t.

“You gotta calm him down, Tones. If he gets too worked up, he could start seizing again.”

Tony doesn’t have to think twice about it. Pushing Peter’s body forward in the tub so that there’s room, Tony steps over the ledge and slides down into the tub behind the kid, putting his legs on both sides of Peter. He leans Peter back so that he’s resting against Tony’s chest. With one hand, he holds both of Peter’s wrists, while the other comes up to card his fingers through his curls, scratching softly at the kid’s scalp. 

“Shhh, Peter. It’s just us. It’ll be over soon. You’re okay. You’re okay, Bambino.” He whispers in his ear. While Tony is trying to keep Peter calm, Rhodey has found a washcloth and is softly wiping it over Peter in hopes of cooling him down faster.

Rhodey runs the cloth over Peter’s stomach. He pauses. “Hold on a sec. Tones, move your leg.” Tony pushes his knee down. Rhodey leans in closer and frowns at something. He reaches towards Peter’s thigh and pushes Peter’s boxers up out of the way.

“Oh fuck.” He breathes out.

Tony looks down, following his friend’s gaze. On Peter’s upper thigh, a deep cut several inches long disrupted his pale skin. The cut was a dark, angry red, in some spots the color so dark it appeared to be turning black. The skin around the cut was raised, swollen and pink.

“Shit, okay. Fuck.” Rhodey unplugs the water drain. “Get him out and to the medbay. I know what’s wrong with him. He needs antibiotics right fuckin now.”

Tony stands up, Rhodey making sure he doesn’t slip on the wet floor as he picks up Peter again.

The pair hurried down to the medbay, Tony demanding FRIDAY to make the elevator move faster. Once inside, Tony laid Peter out on first cot he came across, and Rhodey grabs an IV pole, rummaging through the cabinets to find what he needed.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“That cut. It's infected and I’m willing to bet my ass the infection has spread. But Peter has an enhanced immune system, right? I think his immune system is overreacting to the infection. Fuck. We need Cho – this is really bad.” Rhodey comes back over to them, IV bags in hand as he hooks it up to a line. 

“Get his arm.” Rhodey demands.

Tony does, gently unfolding Peter’s arm so that the inside of his elbow could be accessed. Peter grimaces slightly as Rhodey hastily shoves the needle in his vein, bet otherwise didn’t react as his eyes slip closed again.

.

.

.

“Peter, sweetheart?”

Peter’s eyes fluttered open, blinking several times to adjust to the light. Above him stood May, with her hands on his checks as she leaned over the medical bed.

“May?” His voice is raspy, his throat sore from the lack of use and vomiting.

“Yeah, sweetie. You’ve been out for a few days. How are you feeling?”

Peter takes inventory of himself. He has a bit of a headache, his muscles are sore and his stomach still a bit queasy, but no where near as bad as he remembered feeling. He nods his head at her. “Better.”

The medbay door opens, and Tony takes in, a large coffee cup in his hand. Upon seeing Peter, he freezes, taking him in for several seconds silently before quietly,

“Oh, thank god.”

May laughs. “Tony here hasn’t hardly slept more than four hours since you’ve been here.”

“Har har,” Tony responds sarcastically. “Last time I tried to sleep kid woke up screaming.”

Peter frowns.

“What happened?”

“I should be asking you the same thing. What happened to your leg?”

Peter looks down, refusing to meet his eyes. He shrugs. “It was just a little cut. I told Karen there was no need to alert you because usually they just heal in a few days but…”

“But it didn’t. Kid, you had a blood infection. You can’t fuck around with stuff like that. Your immune system went into complete overdrive. Coulda killed you. Thank god Rhodey was here and knew what to do. Cho got in a bit ago too, pretty much saved your ass.”

“I’m sorry I scared you guys."

Tony sighs and stares at the child for a few seconds before nudging his shoulder.

“I love you, kid. Don’t make me lose you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you enjoyed the story! Sorry for any mistakes- I wrote and edited this while kinda sick myself. I did have an idea of what Peter had, but as I've never experienced it before, I decided not to name in order to try and avoid any glaring medical inaccuracies. 
> 
> (Wish I could say the same for seizures but eh, oh well!)
> 
> Thanks in advance for any kudos or comments! <3 They truly make my day!


End file.
